Hearts and Stripes

Avelina

In my mind, rodeos always represented a kind of Americana that I didn’t grow up with. I knew horses as a kid, but everything I learned was in Spanish from my father. It was only later, after he died, that I learned how to barrel race. That’s when I was introduced to rodeo culture. In Bozeman there was a palpable buzz on rodeo weekends. Horse trailers poured into town, and hotels, restaurants, and pubs were full of travelers and cowboys. Cowboys like Jake.

On Saturday we watched all of the events. I studied the women’s barrel racing and tried to take note of what I needed to do. There were no reminders of Nate in this world but that didn’t stop me from thinking about him. Every time someone got injured, I would think, If only Nate were here, and then I would shake my head, trying to get rid of the thought. I reminded myself that Nate was probably with the sharp-tongued woman I’d heard on the phone.

During the team-roping finals I saw Russell Coldwell, the man who was the spitting image of Jake. After his run, I stood up. I wanted to get a closer look.

“Sit down, girl,” Bea said. I glanced at Redman, who was eyeing me sharply.

“I just want to see.”

“See what, darling?” Trish drawled from behind me.

“I just want to get a closer look.”

“Well, go then,” Bea finally said. I skipped down off the bleachers and over to the holding corral. I leaned against the wooden slats until I caught his attention. He dismounted from his horse and sidled over to me.

“Avelina.” He tilted the brim of his beige felt Stetson.

“Russell. You take your wedding ring off when you compete?”

“I got a divorce,” he said, looking down and tapping the toe of his boot against the wooden post. I studied the broad line of his jaw and the curve of his strongly made shoulders, not unlike Jake’s but not the same either. Jake had a boyishness to him that Russell didn’t. They both rode their horses the same way, with a command so obvious that it seemed as if man and animal were one.

“I’m sorry to hear.”

“What are your plans for tonight?”

“No plans,” I lied.

“We’re going for drinks at Pete’s.”

“Okay. Can I ride with you?”

“Sure,” he said simply. “Let me load up my horses. My truck is the blue one; go ahead and get in.”

“I can help you.”

“Pfft. Help me with what?”

“Loading up the horses.”

“Nah, that’s no job for you.”

I blinked, taken aback, then quickly shrugged it off and headed for the cab of his truck. In the side mirror I could see Bea coming toward me with a vengeance.

She stalked up to the window and gestured for me to roll it down. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“We’re just going to Pete’s for a drink.”

“Did you think of tellin’ anybody or were you just gonna slip off into the night?”

“Why are you being dramatic, Bea?” I looked into the mirror again and saw Russell watching us.

She whispered angrily near my ear, “Are you gonna go gallivantin’ through town with a married man?”

“He’s divorced.”

“That man is bad news. I bet he’s divorced all right, ’cause he’s a wife-beater. I’ve heard the rumors and I know you have, too.”

“Have I?” My facial expression didn’t change. I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. I could hardly remember what it was like to worry about my own safety. I welcomed the danger, and I wanted pain because at least it would dull the hurt inside.

“Nate is going to be at the ranch tomorrow.”

“I wonder if he’ll bring the woman.”

“Stop this nonsense.”

“Do you know what it’s like to be constantly let down by life and then feel like it’s your fault?”

“I’m getting Red.”

“We’re leaving,” Russell interrupted. He hopped into the driver’s seat, started the engine, revved it two or three times, and then put it in gear and drove away.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“Nothin’.”

Walking through Pete’s, I could see the looks of disapproval on people’s faces; some even looked slightly mortified. Maybe they thought of me as the town black widow, some wicked husband killer trying to get my claws into the next victim.

“I feel like everyone is staring at us.”

“So what,” Russell said, his tone purely indifferent.

“Whiskey, neat.” Out of the corner of my eye I thought I could see Russell scowl when I ordered my drink.

“The same,” he added.

“You got it,” the bartender said.

“So why did you get a divorce?”

“Didn’t get along. My ex is a bitch.”

“Oh.” We shared few words after that. Russell wasn’t much of a talker. After the third or fourth whiskey, I expected Redman or Bea to walk in, pull me off the bar stool, and drag me out by my hair, but they didn’t. I glanced at my phone and saw three missed calls from Nate. It was eleven o’clock and the whiskey was going straight to my brain.

“Will you call me Lena?” I asked him.

“Why would you want me to do that?” I was discovering the many differences between Russell and Jake. Before his accident, Jake was lighthearted, fun, and complimentary. Russell seemed miserable.

“I just want to hear what it sounds like when you say it.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want. I’ll call you Strawberry Shortcake as long as my dick’s in your mouth.”

I sucked in a short breath and felt bile rise in my throat.

His expression was unapologetic. “What, did I say something to shock you, Lena?” he said sarcastically. “I thought that was why you were here. You want me to smack you around a little while I’m fuckin’ you, right?”

“No,” I said, barely audible.

“That wasn’t so convincing.”

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Two more.” He motioned for the bartender to refill our glasses. The bartender, a tall gangly man with shaggy blond hair, eyed me. There was something rueful in his expression.

“You want another, sweetheart?”

Russell pounded his fist on the bar. “That’s what I said.”

“I’m just checkin’ with the lady, Russell.”

When the bartender turned to retrieve the whiskey, Russell snorted, “Lady. Ha!”

Once the whiskey was poured, I downed it, hoping to lessen the fear and the pain I was feeling. “You’re nothing like him.”

“Who, Jake? You mean Jake Pussy McCrea? Yeah, no, I’m nothin’ like him.”

“He’s not . . . he wasn’t.” I started stammering and slurring. My vision was getting hazy.

He turned to me. “You should stick to using that mouth for what it’s good for.”

“I have to go,” I said, my voice sounding small and far away.

“Go where? You got a ride?”

“I don’t know why you’re being so mean.”

“Listen, you got a sweet little ass. I’ll drive you back to my room and give you what you want.”

“You’re drunk.”

He smiled wide and I noticed that one of his teeth was black. The rest were yellow, likely from chewing tobacco. Nothing like Nate’s straight, white teeth.

I took a deep breath to steady myself and put my head in my hands, my elbows propped on the bar. What am I doing here?

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. “Ava?” I looked down at the floor and saw a pair of black Converse before looking up into Nate’s squinting eyes. He was looking past my irises to the heart of me. But his eyes weren’t searching, they were pleading. He looked concerned. “Come with me?”

“How’d you find me?” I mumbled.

He wore a slight smile. “I didn’t want to spend another minute away from you. I called Red and he told me where to look.”

I remained silent as I stared at Nate’s concerned expression.

“Ava, I told Red and Bea that I’d take you back to the ranch. Come with me . . . please.” He reached his hand out.

“She’s with me,” Russell chimed in unenthusiastically.

“I don’t think so,” Nate said.

Russell stood up in a combative gesture, chest puffed out in Nate’s direction. “I don’t want any trouble with you, man,” Nate said.

“Who is this guy?” Russell asked.

I looked up and shrugged. I kept my gaze on Nate but answered Russell. “I don’t know for sure, but he’s harmless.”

When I stood from the bar, Nate stepped toward me and took my hands in his. Looking down at our hands, he said, “Don’t go with him, Ava, please.” Russell grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me back out of Nate’s grasp. “Easy, man,” Nate barked.

I swayed, staring at Nate. “Let’s go, Lena,” Russell said, trying to pull me away.

“No, I won’t let you take her.” Nate stood tall in a white T-shirt and faded black jeans belted low on his narrow hips. He ran his fingers through his dark, tousled hair. The slits of his eyes seemed smaller but the green color was still piercing as he peered at me. Even though he was thinner than Russell, Nate carried himself confidently. The veins in his hands and forearms and the cut muscles in his upper arms made him seem much more intimidating than a bigger man.

Russell reached past me, his arm swinging wildly in a punch toward Nate. With his hands still in his pockets, Nate smoothly moved to one side and watched in amusement as Russell fell to the ground.

Nate grabbed my hand and began pulling me toward the door. “Let’s go.” Russell was on his feet in a second and coming after us.

Nate turned quickly and popped Russell in the nose with one swift jab. There was a crunching sound and then Russell fell to the ground, holding his face and bleeding like a pig. I stared down at him and watched the red stream gush from his nose and run down his neck onto the floor.

I let out a loud sob then fell to my knees. “Jake?” I knew it wasn’t him but the image was the same.

In the front room, seconds after I’d heard the gun go off, I’d found my Jake lying there, eyes open but unaware. He’d been alive for a few seconds but not breathing. It’d been hard for me to touch him, but I had. Sitting on the floor of the bar, I replayed the last seconds of Jake’s life as I held Russell’s head in my lap. “Why?” was all I’d said to Jake, knowing I’d never get the answer. The last thing I’d heard that night was the gurgling in his throat and the last beats of his heart, the last human sound Jake had made before his soul faded away and the life drained from his eyes.

I snapped back to reality to see Nate looking doleful and watching me apprehensively. Russell was also staring at me as I sobbed. For a moment, even with blood gushing from his nose, Russell looked compassionate. He glanced up at Nate and said, “You should take her out of here,” and then he looked at me. “Go, sweetheart, I’m fine.” I know I must have looked pathetic. How could God be so cruel to let our memories live on vividly like images on a movie screen to play over and over as we watch in horror?

I continued to cry quietly as Nate lifted me off the ground. He carried me out into the pouring rain to a bright red and white truck. He got into the passenger seat and held me on his lap. In a barely audible voice he said, “I’m here,” and kissed me gently on the forehead. After a while he scooted me off of his lap and slid over to the driver’s seat. As we drove off, I rolled down the window, rested my head on the door, and let the cold rain beat down on me. A sad song droned on the radio while I shivered and sobbed.

CHAPTER 16

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 990